Trespasser
by CryptJo
Summary: While Sephiroth is otherwise occupied in Wutai, Lazard takes the opportunity to snoop around his apartment.


Lazard stroked an index finger along a dust-free shelf. The wood, much like its owner, was shaped and polished to perfection, its surface reflecting the white-gloved finger which ran along its surface. How nice it would be, Lazard mused, to run the very same finger along the smooth planes of shelf's owner. Moving on, he turned his attention to a simple glass ornament, a prism, placed to catch the light from the large east-facing window. Interesting, he thought, that Sephiroth would have such an item in his possession. Perhaps he too appreciated aesthetic quality as much as functionality. He made a note to pay more attention to his favourite general's attitude towards such matters when he returned from his current tour of duty and continued on with his sightseeing around Sephiroth's living quarters.

The kitchen was much as Lazard had expected it to be; basic and functional. He doubted Sephiroth had much time to cook, let alone the inclination, and so didn't expect to see many personal touches in the room. He was far too eager to see Sephiroth's bedroom to linger in uninteresting rooms. He headed there next, quickly crossing the room to the en suite bathroom to indulge himself in the scent of Sephiroth's toiletries. Twisting the lid off a bottle of shampoo, he breathed deeply, allowing the smell to fill his senses and conjure up images of Sephiroth showering, naked and soapy, running his fingers through his long hair and making sure that every strand was cleaned. Momentarily toying with the idea of stripping off there and then, Lazard reigned himself in. He had some time to enjoy this little trespass. He could shower later if he wanted, and bathe himself with the rich, fragrant soaps Sephiroth favoured. Indulging his lust, just a little, he lifted the lid of the laundry basket, just to see if Sephiroth had left anything behind. He hadn't, Lazard noted, disappointed but also impressed that the general took the time to ensure his home was in order before leaving for Wutai. Still, the pillows would likely still carry his scent, even if the sheets had been changed.

Cotton sheets, in a mint green shade, covered Sephiroth's bed. In Lazard's mind, he had expected luxurious silk. After all, what could be more appropriate for such a perfect specimen of manhood than the most expensive bedding money could buy? Cotton was so mundane! So common. Something of a let-down, he realised as he sank down onto the bed and buried his nose into the flatter of the two pillows - its misshapen form surely an indication that Sephiroth favoured that one. At least with that he was rewarded. Underneath the scent of the standard ShinRa issued laundry detergent there was a musky, slightly leathery odour and the shampoo he had earlier encountered. He whimpered softly, stretching out so he lay flat on the bed, where he could rock his hips against the softness of the duvet and ease the ache building in his groin.

Lust, or stupidity, led Lazard to his next action. Reaching under his body, he fumbled with the zip of his trousers and reached inside to draw out his erection, pressing it against the bed cover and sighing. He wanted to come; he wanted to just take his cock and jerk it hard until he climaxed into his hand but if he did, he would be wasting this opportunity. By evening, he would be expected to return the spare key to Sephiroth's secretary, having retrieved the vitally important document he claimed he needed, and that would be that. The excuse could only be used once and couldn't be wasted by rushing to the end. No, he had to make the most of his lie.

Rolling over onto his back, Lazard took deep breaths and squeezed the base of his cock. He looked around the room and wondered what he would like to do next. A wicked thought popped into his head and he sat up and located the set of drawers which he hoped would house Sephiroth's underwear. Full of anticipation and wondering what exactly Sephiroth wore under his leathers, Lazard crept towards the drawers. He always chose boxer briefs for himself. They were comfortable and sat well under his trousers. Lazard preferred to think of Sephiroth in boxer shorts - again, silk - however he realised that such a choice would be impractical for a SOLDIER. Nevertheless, perhaps he kept a pair or two for special occasions.

With one hand slowly stroking his erection, he pulled open the top drawer. It didn't contain underwear, rather, it appeared to be an assortment of bracers and accessories. The second drawer was no less dull, full of belts and buckles and other small items Sephiroth would be expected to wear with his uniform. Still hoping for a treasure trove, Lazard opened the bottom and final drawer. It did house undergarments, but only black, woollen socks. Lazard snorted; the idea of Sephiroth wearing nothing but socks as he pottered around in the morning amused him greatly. But no underwear…Lazard could only assume that the general chose to wear none. That was certainly an appealing image and one that he would recall the next time he found himself in a meeting with Sephiroth.

Since he found no underwear with which to titillate himself, Lazard crossed over to the wardrobe and opened the doors to reveal Sephiroth's dress uniforms and two spare coats. The scent of leather was overpowering to the point of making Lazard's head reel. Quickly, he shut the doors again and made his way back to the bed. A quick glance at the clock told him it was a little after four in the afternoon. He had already spent an hour in Sephiroth's apartment, poking around and pawing at his personal belongings. A pang of guilt stabbed at him; he really shouldn't be there. He certainly shouldn't be sitting on Sephiroth's bed with his pristine white trousers and equally pristine white underpants around his ankles, teasing and caressing his erection, but there he was doing just that.

Lazard wondered if Sephiroth masturbated, and if so, did he do it in bed or did he prefer the shower? Given his apparent fastidiousness with cleanliness, Lazard presumed he would chose the shower. It was easier for washing away the evidence. Maybe now and again, Sephiroth would take care of his needs in the comfort of his bed, stripping the sheets immediately after he finished. Lazard questioned whether he was projecting his own preferences onto his idea of what Sephiroth would be like in private. The general appeared cold in many matters, so perhaps he didn't care much for the needs of his flesh. Lazard had never known him to take a lover and not even Genesis, with his beauty and borderline promiscuity, seemed to have tempted Sephiroth. What went on behind closed doors however, was a mystery. Entertained - and aroused - by the thought of the stoic general taking a series of lovers, other SOLDIERs, back to his apartment to fuck them senseless, Lazard's hand moved faster and once more, he had to force down the urge to jerk his cock to completion.

He was a patient man; throughout his life, Lazard had been made to work for everything. Familial connections meant little when his father chose to ignore his existence most of the time and so Lazard had climbed the ranks based on his own talent and ambition. He knew when to take his time to make a good job of something and this was one of those occasions. Slowly and surely, that was the way to go and even though he had a deadline to meet, he knew he had enough time to truly savour the experience and so set about getting comfortable. Reaching behind him to tug a pillow down the bed, Lazard's hand met with something cold and cylindrical. Fingers closing automatically around the object, he drew it out from its hiding place and turned to see what it was.

"Ah, so the bed it is."

In his hand, Lazard held a small, half-empty bottle of lubricant. With this discovery, Lazard's feeling of intrusion - and by extension, his sexual arousal - increased. Before he really thought about what he was doing, he had poured a small amount into his hand and applied it to his erection. It was Sephiroth's lubricant, so Lazard's imagination naturally supplied the fantasy that it was Sephiroth's hand, stroking him. He closed his eyes and reclined on the bed, changing his grip from his standard, hand wrapped around his cock, to just his thumb and forefinger, creating a ring through which he stimulated the tip of his erection. His wrist twisted as he jerked, trying to create a different sensation to the usual. The time for patience had passed. The requirements of his body overcame the wants of his head and Lazard fully surrendered to his pent-up lust for Sephiroth.

At the back of his mind, a small voice whispered to Lazard that he should live dangerously. That he should leave a small piece of evidence of his visit. It wasn't as if Sephiroth would know exactly who had been there, only that they had left a message of sorts behind. Even if he did figure it out, if his secretary mentioned the loaned key, or he was somehow able to sense that it had been Lazard, what would be the worst that could happen? With any luck, he might take it as an indication of Lazard's interest and invite the director back to his apartment for a private viewing. Lazard would dearly love that; to put on a show for Sephiroth's benefit, kneeling in front of him, gripping his cock and rubbing it until it shot streams of pearly come all over the sheets. That was precisely what he wanted to do and so, in his lust-fogged state he threw caution to the wind and turned over onto his side, allowing his pre-come to drip down onto the crisp cotton cover.

Was he dicing with death? Most likely. Did he care? Definitely not. His hand worked his cock, fuelled by the idea of defiling Sephiroth's property. He was close to his peak and would leave such a beautiful mess for the general to come home to. That thought, of Sephiroth discovering a dried-up streaks of semen on his bedcovers, was enough to send Lazard over the edge and instead of catching his spunk in his hand as he would normally do, he milked himself, making sure that every drop landed on the fabric. When he was done, he wiped his still-slick hand on the duvet, beside his stain, and stood up to dress again.

As he was fastening his zip, a call came through on his PHS; Sephiroth's secretary, reminding him that she would soon be leaving for the evening.

"If you would prefer, sir," she said, her nasal tones cutting through Lazard's post-orgasmic bliss. "You could just keep the key for the moment and give it to me in the morning?"

"No, that's…" Lazard hesitated, remembering his desire to use Sephiroth's toiletries. "That would be fine, actually. Then I can drop these documents back here when I'm done with them," he lied, already unfastening his shirt and letting his trousers slip down again. "I'm used to working late into the night anyway, so that works out well, Thank you."

The secretary told Lazard not to wear himself out - at which he had to stifle a chuckle - and wished him a good evening.

"I'm sure it will be. See you tomorrow."

The end.


End file.
